


sleepovers in your bed (at least I got you in my head)

by brittandsanforever



Series: Brittana: the scenes that could’ve been [1]
Category: Brittana - Fandom, Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff, brittana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittandsanforever/pseuds/brittandsanforever
Summary: After Glee Club's Sectionals win, Santana crashes at Brittany's. Takes place during Special Education (2x09).
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Brittana: the scenes that could’ve been [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936897
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	sleepovers in your bed (at least I got you in my head)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyrics from Hayley Kiyoko's Sleepover.

The girls sat together on Brittany’s bed, with the blonde gently dragging a hairbrush through Santana’s wet dark locks. Brittany was the only person Santana let see her like this—no makeup, hair beginning to frizz, and wearing fuzzy blue pajama pants with baby penguins on them because she forgot to bring her own.

“You know….you were _amazing_ tonight, San. You _so_ deserved that solo. I swear it’s why we won. _You’re_ the reason we won,” Brittany gushed, pausing to tuck a stray wet strand of hair behind the Latina’s ear as her cheeks flushed pink—barely noticeable with her tan complexion—but Brittany noticed and smiled shyly, knowing she was the cause.

“No way, it was definitely yours and Mike’s _insane_ dance moves that stole the show. Mostly yours. I mean, I’ve seen you dance before, Britt, but not like _that_. And in _heels_ , Jesus,” Santana replied, plucking the hairbrush out of the dancer’s hand and tossing it across the bed. She then pressed gently against Brittany’s shoulders, causing her to fall onto her elbows, lower back settling against the bed. With cat-like grace, she quickly maneuvered herself so that she was now straddling pale hips, feet tucking under long legs. “You’re so talented, Brittany, and I’m glad Mr. Schue finally realized it and let you shine, ‘cause you absolutely did.”

“San….” Brittany whined as Santana licked and sucked at _that_ spot on her neck, the one that never failed to make her weak and give up control completely to the sexy Latina above her. She thought back to minutes before, when Santana’s lips and tongue were moving against her but somewhere _much lower_ , the steam from the shower only enhancing the radiating warmth between her legs and throughout her whole body as Santana lapped away at her relentlessly.

They had stumbled out of the shower together, kissing and giggling and long hair dripping everywhere, and Brittany quickly wrapped a big fuzzy towel around them, not allowing Santana to grab one for herself. The Latina didn’t argue and just laughed, perfectly okay with being wrapped around Brittany, and she pulled away for only a second to watch water droplets run down the blonde’s toned stomach.

“You know what would be super hot?” Brittany asked as her eyes fluttered open, writhing below Santana as the Latina planted more kisses along her neck and collarbone.

“Hm?” Santana hummed, as her lips made their way down between the curve of Brittany’s breasts. She had no intention of _making sweet lady love_ to Brittany again, as they were both exhausted from all the dancing and singing and what they did in the shower just minutes ago, but she couldn’t help it. Being in Brittany’s bed and feeling Brittany’s warmth and taking in Brittany’s smell just really made her _wants to get her mack on_.

“If you changed _Valerie_ to _Brittany_ and sang it to me,” Brittany stated shyly, refusing to meet Santana’s burning gaze as she pulled away from the blonde’s chest to process her request, a smirk playing on the Latina’s lips.

“You know, that would be kinda hot,” Santana replied, placing one more kiss over the tops of each of Brittany’s breasts and then flopping down beside her, the blonde’s left arm coming to instinctively wrap around her and pull her closer.

“I hope you know how serious I am though about how incredible you are. I was in _awe_ of you tonight, I still can’t believe I was able to pull off that dance because all I wanted to do was spend the whole time watching you,” Brittany said, a certain honesty and softness in her voice as she rested her chin against the side of the Latina’s head and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“How did I ever get so lucky with you, as my best friend? You say the sweetest things to me, Brittany S. Pierce,” Santana replied, wrapping her arms even tighter around the blonde’s middle, stretching her head up to gaze into her favorite pair of blue eyes.

“And I mean all of them. Every last word. I hope you know that I do,” Brittany promised, never breaking eye contact as sapphire blues stared into chocolate browns, and Santana swears she could see the sincerity in her eyes.

“I know….I love you.”

“I love you too, San, more than you know.”

“ _Well sometimes I go out by myself, and I look across the water_ ,” Santana began, although much quieter than her performance only hours earlier, and Brittany all but squealed with joy, propping herself up with a pillow so she could watch the Latina sing.

“ _And I think of all the things, what you’re doing and in my head I paint a picture_ ,” she continued, grasping for Brittany’s hand and using it as a microphone. Brittany giggled at the exaggerated facial expressions and gestures Santana made as she sang, and then the Latina was suddenly straddling her again, body moving fluidly above her. The sights and sounds of it all were making her head spin.

“ _Since I’ve come on home, well my body’s been a mess. And I’ve missed your golden hair and the way you like to dress_ ,” the Latina sang, twirling Brittany’s still-damp hair between her fingertips, watching the dancer’s eyes light up as she noticed the change in the lyrics from _ginger_ to _golden_. Her cheeks went pink as she watched in complete adoration.

“ _Won’t you come on over? Stop making a fool out of me. Why don’t you come on over Brittany? Brittany? Brittany? Brittanyyyy_ ,” she finished, bringing her face close to Brittany’s as she sang the last note, drawing out her name like it was poetry on her tongue.

Brittany clapped and cheered dramatically, grabbing Santana by the waist and pulling her down onto the bed, and then she rolled on top of her and began planting kisses all over the Latina’s flushed, smiling face. “I think I liked this performance better….but only because you were singing just for me.”

Santana was about to reply when there came a soft knock on the door. Brittany’s mom popped her head into the room just as the two girls untangled from one another.

“Lights out, okay girls? It’s half past midnight. And I know I already said it at the school, but you two were _spectacular_ tonight! Especially you, Santana, the way you had that entire auditorium captivated….you’re truly a star,” the older woman said genuinely, looking at Santana, who was almost like her third daughter, with so much pride.

“Thanks, Mrs. P, but your daughter’s definitely a star, too,” Santana answered bashfully, looking at Brittany, who squeezed her hand underneath her pink snowman sheets.

“Thanks Mom, we promise we’ll try to get some sleep.”

“I know it’s been an exciting night, but that’s all I ask. Good night, girls,” Whitney said, blowing the girls each a kiss.

“Good night Mom.”

“Night, Mrs. P, thanks again for letting me stay over on a school night.”

“Oh no need to thank me, sweetie, you know you’re always welcome here. Sleep tight, you two,” Whitney added, shutting the door quietly as she poked her head back out and waddled down the hall.

“You have a really awesome mom, Britt,” Santana gushed, settling her head against the pillow, her face only inches away from Brittany’s.

“She is pretty awesome. And hey….I’m sorry your parents weren’t there tonight, San,” Brittany said, her eyes softening as she reached for Santana’s hand that was curled against the pillow near her chin.

“Yeah, it sucks they couldn’t make it, but I get it. My dad got stuck at the hospital all night with back-to-back surgeries and my mom had this big, important meeting in Cleveland,” Santana replied, attempting to hide the hurt that Brittany could sense in the way her eyes darted away from her and the way her brow furrowed.

“Maybe they’ll come see you perform at Regionals, or Nationals if we win Regionals. That’d be pretty cool,” Brittany added enthusiastically, running her thumb soothingly along Santana’s knuckles.

“Britt, they’re not gonna fly all the way to New York to watch me sway in the background and belt out maybe one or two notes. There’s no way in _hell_ I’d get a solo for Nationals, we all know it’s gonna be the ogre and the dwarf with the predictable sappy duet like always. Even if I _did_ somehow get a solo, I still wouldn’t expect them to come,” Santana said with an unreadable expression, refusing to meet Brittany’s gaze.

She knew Brittany could tell she was lying, but she refused to admit out loud that she cared. She’d always had trouble talking about feelings, whether they were about her parents, Glee club, their friends, or her and Brittany. It’s always been hard for her, excruciating really, and she had convinced herself sophomore year when things started to heat up with Brittany that things were just _better_ without feelings altogether (or at least, shoving them so deep down inside of her that she wasn’t even sure if they were really there anymore).

But it was now towards the end of her junior year and she was starting to realize that she didn’t really believe that, and she was really just terrified because feelings made everything so _real_ and she doesn’t think she’s quite ready to admit how much Brittany means to her, or how much she actually cares about the Glee club and Mr. Schue and even Rachel Berry despite how utterly intolerable she can be, or how much it really does hurt that her parents have yet to come to a single one of her New Directions performances after two whole years of being in the club.

“But you _want_ them to come,” Brittany persisted, reaching out with her free hand that wasn’t tangled with Santana’s to gently turn her chin, forcing the Latina to look at her.

“I mean, yeah I guess it’d be nice if they did. But I don’t actually _care_ whether they come or not.”

“Yes you do.”

“ _No_ , I—” Santana argued, but after meeting Brittany’s knowing gaze and watching the way her eyebrow raised and the way she bit her bottom lip, she decided to just give up. “I think you know me _too_ well, B.”

“Well, I may not be school smart but I _am_ an expert in the field of Santana Lopez. And just so you know, you can always borrow _my_ parents. My mom adores you, I think she’d probably adopt you if she could, or trade in Allison for you,” Brittany told her in an attempt to cheer her up, thinking about how her mom really did say once after her younger sister ran inside covered head-to-toe in mud after a rainy day that she’d gladly trade the 9-year-old in for Santana, who’d been sitting at the kitchen table helping Brittany with an English paper.

“Well that’d be kinda awkward, considering….” Santana trailed off, giving the blonde a knowing look. She wasn’t quite sure how to finish the sentence, as she really didn’t know what her and Brittany were.

They’d been inseparable best friends and practically attached at the hip since third grade, but in middle school, the lines between friends and something more became blurred after an unexpected kiss in Brittany’s old treehouse after Santana had told her how awful her first kiss had been with Puck and how she desperately wanted a do-over. Kissing turned into touching and exploring, but it wasn’t until sophomore year when they had sex for the first time.

Laying there in bed after their first time, listening to her best friend’s shallow breathing, watching the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth curved into a satisfied smile as their fingers intertwined, was when she knew. She knew she never felt like this with any of the boys she’d ever been with. She knew Brittany was different, special. One of a kind. She’d do _anything_ for her, and she knew what she felt in her heart. She knew what it was….she was _in love_. It’s been over a year later and Brittany still didn’t know that.

And she _refused_ to let Brittany put a label on them, and she _refused_ to let Brittany talk about her feelings, and she _refused_ to ever share her own feelings with Brittany. So that’s where they were now, with Santana truly not knowing where her and Brittany stood.

“Considering _us_ ,” Brittany said hesitantly, her voice small, worried that Santana would get upset. But she didn’t. Instead, her face softened, and she brought Brittany’s hand that had been tangled with her own up to her lips, and planted a kiss into her palm.

“Yeah. I like how that sounds. _Us_ ,” Santana replied, watching the shock on Brittany’s face, feeling terrible that Brittany was so used to her rejection and cruelty that she was so surprised to be met with a confirmation for once, that maybe, _just maybe_ , Santana was feeling what she was feeling, too. But then she felt warm all over as Brittany abruptly closed the distance between them, giving Santana a quick, but firm and sweet kiss on the lips.

“Me, too,” Brittany murmured with a shy smile as she pulled away, and Santana knew she was probably smiling like an idiot, but she couldn’t get over that one little word.

 _Us_. It wasn’t like Brittany had called them _girlfriends_ or _sweet lady lovers_ or anything. And she knew that they were an “ _us_ ”, they had been for years now, and Santana thinks it might not be the worst thing in the world to let Brittany call them what they were. Maybe it meant that soon she wouldn’t mind the whole world, or at least their little world inside McKinley, or at least if not the whole school, the Glee club, knowing that they were an “ _us_ ”.

She also hated that Brittany was also an “us” with _Artie Abrams_ , and the fact that it was her own damn fault made her skin crawl and made her physically sick, and all she wanted to do whenever she saw that four-eyed loser was _accidentally_ roll his wheelchair off a cliff, with him in it.

If she was going to make Brittany hers and finally tell her how she felt, she was going to have to make a move _soon_ and _quick_ because she could tell Brittany was actually starting to _like_ Wheels (which was evident after seeing the letter to Santa on Brittany’s nightstand explicitly asking for Artie to be able to walk), and she wasn’t sure that was something her stomach, or heart, could take.

So, she decided that by Valentine’s Day of the new year, she’d finally come clean to Brittany about how she really felt. And maybe, she’d _finally_ have the courage to sing the _Brittany_ version of _Valerie_ during Glee club, because she knew that the song, with the changed lyrics and the fact that she’d basically be professing her love for Brittany in front of all their friends, would win her over.

She finally had a plan, and _nothing_ —not even Roller Geek or the fact that she was still endlessly deep inside the closet—would stand in the way of finally making Brittany hers.


End file.
